


Getting it Wrong (Before We Get it Right)

by LaurytheLatrator



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Amy is mostly uncomfortable with Jake, Drunk Sex, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Jake is uncomfortable with emotions, Wooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:02:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1213699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurytheLatrator/pseuds/LaurytheLatrator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their first kiss doesn't come from some big moment. It doesn't come from getting drunk, or a long night siting across from each other at their desks, or even an undercover role-playing gambit. It doesn't come from a heartfelt expression of feelings. No, in typical Nine-Nine fashion, it comes from something stupid.</p><p>(Jake has a continuing pattern of having realizations at the worst times)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting it Wrong (Before We Get it Right)

Their first kiss doesn't come from some big moment. It doesn't come from getting drunk, or a long night siting across from each other at their desks, or even an undercover role-playing gambit. It doesn't come from a heartfelt expression of feelings. No, in typical Nine-Nine fashion, it comes from something stupid.

“So what’re you thinking? Larceny?” Jake said, raising his glass to point at a hulking tattooed man in a wife beater.

“Possibly,” Amy conceded with a dip of her head, “But he’s clearly an abuser or something violent, look at that shirt.”

“Agreed, gross.” Jake looked around for another target. His eyes alighted on an older woman hunched over the bar with a martini. “What about her?”

“I’m thinking embezzlement.” Amy said, finishing her drink.

“Woo hoo, interesting, white-collar.” Giving up, Jake shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Well, Santiago, I think we’ve profiled everyone in sight, and in case you’re unaware, missy, it is a school night, so...” He expected her to catch his meaning. It was already close to midnight and they did have work tomorrow. He was doing her a favor, he knew that she had to be itching to get away. But Amy wasn’t putting on her coat or grabbing her purse. She was staring at the bar with an expression of contemplation.

“That bartender’s definitely done time.” Amy declared, swirling her ice in the glass. Jake cocked his head, mildly surprised.

He didn't pass up the opportunity though. “Wanna bet?”

“What stakes?”

“What do you want, in the highly unlikely event that you’re right?”

“You have to buy me all my frou-frou coffees for two weeks.” Amy said with a too sweet tone. “I know how you love my over complicated orders.” Jake rolled his eyes, but agreed. “What about you? What do you want?” That was a question Jake had been struggling with for a while. He fell back on an old stand-by.

“What would make you the most uncomfortable right now?”

“It's a tossup between flashing the bar and kissing you.” Her candor came out of left field. It put images into his head that, quite frankly, he'd thought of before, but never in such vivid detail. Jake hurried to cover his reaction to the suggestions.

“Both have potential. I'm going to go with the kiss, that seems way more un-Santiago. You’re probably already in the background of some Girls Gone Wild episode.”

“Ew. Just go and find out.”

He stood sending down a gloating smile at her disgruntled face. With a slight swagger, Jake broke away from their table to approach the bar. “Hello my good fellow, could I ask for another beer and another gin tonic, oh, and have you ever done time?”

The bartender reared back, his look of shock quickly becoming a scowl. "Excuse me?"

"Time, in prison," Jake urged him quickly, "Keep up, man."

“He's not just going to come out and say it!” Amy shouted, striding across the bar to join him.

“Fine, give me your full name and Social Security number.” Jake told the bartender seriously.

“What the hell for?”

“Hey I'm a cop, okay.” Jake flashed his badge and held out his phone. “Just enter it here if you don't feel comfortable saying it out loud and hit send.” Amy bent closer to him to peer at the screen. Jake could smell her understated, weirdly masculine perfume.

“What's that going to prove?” She asked.

“I'm sending it to Gina. She owes me a favor for being the filmographer for her dance troupe that one time.”

“Both of you, out.” The bartender demanded, pointing to the door.

Jake grumbled about not even giving them his name, until Santiago grabbed his arm and said in his ear, “His name’s on the health inspection certificate.” She was right, and as they passed it Jake hurriedly typed the name into his phone and sent it off.

Once outside the bar, Santiago and Jake clustered around the phone. When the text came in, they each reacted with joy and disgust, respectively.

“Ha! he's clean!” Jake crowed triumphantly, bouncing a little unsteadily on his toes. He turned to Amy, seeing a less potent Santiago-glare than he’d imagined. “That means you owe me a kiss and don't you skimp little lady, I won’t let you off until I’m satisfied your heart’s in it.”

Jake expected her to decline. He was prepared to haggle her down to a kiss on the cheek in front of everyone at the squad. That would be more humiliating, he thought, to have it dragged out that way, create fanfare and suspense, maybe even sell tickets.

So he was entirely shocked when Santiago shrugged her shoulders and said, “Fine.”

Before he could so much as question her, she was leaning up and her mouth was on his. A very unmanly squeak escaped him, but Jake shut his eyes tightly and tried to savor the moment. It was a clumsy kiss, her mouth pinched tight and pressed hard on his, but he could feel and move and taste. Her lips were soft and supple and tasted faintly of berries. She was incredibly warm. When he thought she was about to pull away, her hands came up to clutch the zipper of his leather jacket. Their lips were no longer stationary or closed, they moved together in a rhythm like the tides. Jake wanted to run his hands all over her body, but instead he settled them on her shoulders and pulled her closer. Amy was making the softest gasps and whimpers, and Jake wanted to bottle them up for lonely nights.

He was beginning to contemplate whether adding tongue would scare her away, when Amy finally broke the kiss. They stared at each other as they regained breath, their hands still tangled in each others' clothes. Her eyes were wide and her lips bright and mussed, and Jake knew he had to look the same if not worse. He could feel a bright red flush in his cheeks that Amy’s complexion didn’t show. As if in a daze, they let go of each other and stumbled backwards.

“I’ve gotta… Go.” Amy said at length.

“Oh yeah, me too, got a lot of things to do,” Jake found himself babbling, “Not masturbating things, definitely not masturbating.”

“No, yeah, me neither.” Amy shook her head.

“’Kay bye!” Jake nearly shouted as he turned and rushed away, Amy mirroring his retreat in the opposite direction. The cold night air was not nearly as calming or sobering as it should’ve been.

 

* * *

 

Work was the same, for the most part. They still sat across from one another, they still worked cases together, and they still had their pre-briefing chats with their other coworkers about movies and food and Charles embarrassing himself. Things really only got awkward when Jake and Amy were alone without a directive. When there was nothing pressing to do and their eyes would hold for a minute too long and one or both would make an excuse to leave. Jake tried very hard to ignore those moments. He tried to ignore a lot of things.

It was normal to want to have sex with a coworker, right? He’d worked with plenty of attractive women before (even one or two men, but he didn’t focus on that so much). He probably wouldn’t say no to Rosa under the right circumstances, although Gina was a different story. So thinking Amy was hot and fantasizing about putting his mouth on her hot mocha skin was totally fine.

But when Amy spilt her coffee and got the most adorable pout, it wasn't normal that Jake got this weird tingling feeling all over and had the urge to spill every coffee in the place if it kept that expression on her face. When Captain Holt gave her praise for closing her and Rosa’s case and Amy was practically buzzing with pride, it wasn't normal that he could feel her happiness trickle into him and he got the biggest grin instead of teasing her. It wasn't normal that he was hanging out at his apartment, snacking and watching TV, and he wished Amy were there so they could mock the bad acting together.

The most not normal thing happened when Jake and Amy were on Door Duty, investigating a rash of thefts in the outskirts of Park Slope. There was only a vague hint of awkwardness in the air, and Jake became a constant stream of jokes and immaturity to combat that.

“Do you think any of these people know what obstruction of justice means?” He was searching for that rhythm, but the banter came out far more frustrated than usual. Amy was keeping an even keel, as if unwilling to rise to any of his bait.

“C’mon, just because they aren’t helpful, we can’t—”

“There’s not helpful, and then there’s this group of weirdos.” He mimicked the last witness they'd spoken too. "'Who cares about thefts, what about the commies across the hall!'"

“Hey, my adventures with SuperDan taught me that ’weirdos’ can be really useful.”

“'Adventures with SuperDan'? Are you sure you aren't the star of some web comic in a remote corner of the Internet?”

“Shut up.” Amy knocked on the door. “NYPD, we’d like to ask you some questions.”

“I can see it now,” Jake added in an undertone while they heard movement inside, “SuperDan, and his sidekick, Amy the compulsive cop." That earned him a scoff.

"I thought I was The Cheetah."

"Nope, still too cool of a name to waste on you."

Amy rolled her eyes right when they heard the click of the lock. She smiled tightly as the door opened in front of her.

“Hi, we’re—” Jake had only a second to register the glint of a gun.

“Down!” She was moving before he could push her. The gun went off, a blinding bang. Jake moved on automatic, disarming the assailant before he could get a second shot off. The gun clasped firmly in his hands, directing the assailant to the ground, Jake could finally glance at Amy. She was on the ground, sitting on her butt, looking up at him with wide eyes. He couldn’t see any blood, but that wasn't a guarrentee.

“Santiago, tell me you’re okay.” Jake commanded her, his voice firm and unyielding. She was still panting. “Amy!”

“I’m fine! It missed me.” She didn't sound fine; she was shaky and breathless. Jake felt the nerves he hadn't allowed himself to notice suddenly flare to life, and he wanted nothing more than to run his hands along her body to assess her himself. But he couldn't do that.

"Can you cuff him?" He asked, falling back on the duty at hand. He didn't want to take the gun off the perp, and she was already on the ground. Amy nodded, pursing her lips into a firm line, and she drew the handcuffs from behind her back. They moved on autopilot after that, reciting his rights and getting him in the car, but Jake couldn't stop sneaking glances at Amy, replaying the few seconds before he almost lost her.

 

* * *

 

The whole squad fussed over Santiago when they arrived, giving Jake sturdy pats on the back that he wasn't quite stable enough to handle without slumping. Amy insisted to everyone that she was fine, even to Holt's mildly lowered eyebrows of concern. Still, the core detectives, Boyle, Rosa, Jake, and Amy all went out for drinks afterwards. Unofficially, it was a 'glad you're still alive' and also 'drink to forget the danger we're in every day' sort of party.

Amy was going through her mixed drinks faster than usual, but she had been given the next day off and claimed she was therefore allowed to drink as much as she wanted. Jake had beer after beer, but nothing helped the existential terror of realizing that he could've lost Amy that day, and he would've never been able to deal with the guilt and pain of that, and would've probably ended up drinking himself to death before hitting 45, and maybe if he thought about it drinking excessively to ignore that possibility was probably terribly flawed.

Shit. He liked Amy, didn't he? Boyle was right, how messed up was that?

Boyle, the object of his internal cursing, got up from the table, patting himself for his belongings, and announced, "Well gang, I've got a very important cheese tasting tomorrow evening—"

"Of course you do." Jake said under his breath.

"—So I must dash. Can't deal with the dehydration and alcohol residue when my taste buds need to be in top shape."

"Sounds fun." Amy said, probably meaning for her smile to look more sincere than it did. Boyle didn't pick up on it though, which made Jake wonder if he was just that good at reading her, which made him finish off his beer. Rosa waved Boyle goodbye, and he beamed soppily at her before turning and walking off.

Rosa's phone buzzed. She'd been off and on it all evening, but it had hardly been noticeable, she was no more taciturn than usual. Rosa read the display, and the corner of her mouth quirked up slightly.

"Oooh," Amy drew the syllable out teasingly, "What's got you so giddy?"

Rosa shrugged. "Nothin'. Don't worry bout it."

"Is it nothing, or should we not worry about it, meaning it _is_ something." Jake needled her, pointing his finger at her, as if in an interrogation. Rosa huffed, a scowl overtaking her features, and Jake physically backed off.

"Just my bootycall." She said nonchalantly.

"Your… bootycall!" Amy exclaimed incredulously. Jake opened his mouth, but before anything could come out, Amy rounded on him with narrowed eyes. "Don't even, I know what it means."

"Not important." Rosa continued. "I was gonna meet 'em earlier, but I told 'em I'm busy."

"Rosa, you don't have to stay just for us." Amy said. When she said 'us', there was a clear implication of 'me'. "If you want to go, then go."

"Yeah," Jake added, smirking at Rosa, "Have fun, bone down, forget us losers." She looked at him, her resolute expression fading as she considered it. "Go, get out of here, make someone very happy."

"Fine, I'll go." She conceded.

"Alright!" Jake raised his hand for a proud high five. Rosa obliged him with a grin as she stood from the table. She pat the shoulder of an oddly contemplative Amy as she left. Jake could feel Amy's eyes on the side of his face, and he toyed with his empty glass as he wondered what to say.

"I'm gonna get another." He said finally, rising to go until Amy stopped him.

"Why aren't you like that with me?" The simple question made Jake halt, crouching awkwardly mid-stand. Amy was looking at him with a small pout and openly wistful eyes. There was also a haziness to her gaze and a fluidity to her movement that made it clear she was drunk. Jake fell back into his chair with a sigh.

"Like what?" He asked, thinking it would be something silly like giving Rosa high fives. Amy's answer surprised him.

"You're so supportive of her." She said, staring down and stirring her drink with the tiny straw. Jake blinked at her as he frowned. They were partners, he supported Santiago all the time. Amy glanced up shyly and looked away just as quickly. "You never tease Rosa about having a sex life or whatever." Her brow tightened and Amy glared at him, mood changing dramatically. "So why the hell do you belittle my dates and act like I'm some ignorant virgin?" Jake's head was swimming, trying to both focus on the question and forget about the way Santiago said 'virgin'. He had a flippant response on the tip of his tongue when she continued her rant. "I can get men, you know! Plenty of guys think I'm sexy! You have no idea—"

"Yeah, okay, I get it!" Jake snapped, alcohol projecting his voice louder than he'd intended. Amy crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, looking more disgruntled than embarrassed now that most of the bar was staring at them. "Your body is a not-so-secret garden, please, no more details." He definitely needed another beer, maybe that would get the thoughts of other men's eyes and hands all over her. His vivid imagination was turning his stomach.

"Why can't you, I don't know, treat me like you treat everyone else?" Amy ducked her head, her voice coming out as more of a whine than her previous strong tone.

Jake had no idea what she wanted from him. It's not like he was terrible to her; his teasing may have occasionally toed the line of appropriateness, but he was careful never to push her too far. He respected her as a detective, when they weren't competing he made a point of acknowledging her skills and thanking her for a breakthrough in one of their cases. He did nice things like getting her lunch, or fixing ruined weekends, or writing letters of recommendation.

But it was true, he'd never pestered Rosa the way he did Amy, and not just because Rosa was much scarier. Amy was uptight and so easily ruffle-able, it was impossible for Jake to resist winding her up. Now that he _was_ thinking of Amy in all kinds of lewd ways, he could see that it had been safer for their relationship to reduce her to something non-sexual. And he could see that he might've been jealous of the losers Amy chose to go out with.

But what could he say?

"We need tequila shots, right?" Jake turned away from her to look at the bar. "We need something." He added in a grumble to himself. The loud smack of her hand on the table jolted him into looking back at Amy's angry face. "Jeez, cool it, Santiago."

"You're infuriating." She groused, shaking her head. "Can't even finish a simple conversation." Jake laughed at that. Simple, ha.

"I don't care what Rosa does," Jake said, not looking at her, "She can bone whoever she wants." There was a prickling silence. He was acutely aware of her gaze weighing on him.

"But I can't?" Amy said softly. There was something like a revelation in the way she said it. He shrugged, unable to think of any better response. After a very prolonged awkward moment, she spoke up equal parts hesitance and hope, "Tequila?" Jake sighed in relief and immediately got up to get them as many shots as it took to get over that uncomfortable conversation.

 

* * *

 

Jake fucked up. Jake fucked up real good.

He woke up the next day under a crocheted quilt, naked from the waist down and with his tie askew, with a pounding hangover. It took the detective a few minutes to realize that there was a warm, soft body lying beside him. Jake blinked through the headache at the familiar head of black hair turned away from him. She was snoring, and somehow that fact was what made her identity click in his mind. He sat up suddenly, blood rushing to his head.

He was in Amy's apartment, that was obvious. Fuck, they hadn't even made it to the bedroom, they were on the floor of her living room. Looking down at her, he took in her state of undress. Her shirt was nearly unbuttoned, not even all the way off. The slacks from last night were gone, but she wore panties, which gave him a moment of confusion.

A hazy memory of yanking off her underwear came to mind.

He'd really, _really_ fucked up.

It could've been worse, he supposed, they could've woken up tangled together or spooning, and that would make a hasty retreat impossible. Jake was already up and looking for his pants when the idea occurred to him: running away without an explanation _might_ make the already terrible situation worse.

He paused, eyes turning to his sleeping partner. Even if she snored like a jackhammer, Amy looked peaceful in sleep. Her hair was fanned out all around her, as if she'd tossed and turned her head often. She had starfished her limbs, the quilt falling haphazardly off her. It was still chilly out, she must've been cold. Without thinking, Jake leaned over and brought the quilt to cover her more completely. In sleep, Amy clutched the quilt with both hands and held it to her chest. She made a soft snuffle of contentment, and Jake could feel his whole body relax, but only for a moment.

What had he been thinking last night?

Now that the lingering effects of sleep were leaving him, Jake could remember more of the night's events. Too many tequila shots. Sharing a cab, giggling madly. He might've offered to walk her to her apartment. They'd stumbled together through the doorway. Then… somehow they were kissing again, and this time Jake hadn't worried about tongue or keeping his hands to himself.

It had been a quick fuck. They obviously hadn't bothered with getting fully naked. The most foreplay Jake thought to do was pulling the neck of her shirt open to suck on her breasts. It had probably only been 10 minutes in the door before Jake was pushing into her, and Amy was clutching his neck and digging her fingernails into his back, and they beat out a hard greedy rhythm. Jake couldn't even remember if she'd come at all.

Amy deserved much better than last night. He'd been a drunk idiot. He must've seen the one shot he had to be with her and he went for it, thinking only in the moment. A fuck like that, that was the Peralta specialty, and he hated himself for it. She was classier than that.

Amy should've been able to look at him with clear eyes that beckoned. She should've been undressed slowly, delicately, each inch of revealed skin lavished with attention. She should've been kissed gently, with lips that asked permission before tasting her. At the very least, she should've been brought to shuddering moans by his mouth on her clit and his fingers stroking inside of her, watching her come apart at the seams.

Jake would probably never get that chance.

Maybe when he said Amy deserved better, he meant more than last night; Amy simply deserved better than Jake. That would probably be clear to her now, if the fact hadn't been drilled in by literally every immature thing he did prior.

Jake had no idea how to salvage the situation without talking about his feelings, and that was such an insurmountable notion as to be dismissed immediately.

He stood, finding his jeans behind her couch, and quietly slipped them on. He slinked down the hall until he found her bathroom, where he had no qualms about raiding her medicine cabinet for pain killers. Walking back into the kitchen, Jake poured water into two pristine glasses. After downing a couple aspirin and his water, he brought the bottle and the other glass to Amy's coffee table. She'd see them when she woke up.

Jake deliberated long and hard over whether to leave a note, eventually giving up on the idea. What could he say? Sorry didn't seem like enough, but any more than that was… _feelings_ , and that was such a dangerous road.

He could only hope work would be okay. They'd managed after the Kiss from Hell, maybe they'd survive this too. Jake wasn't sure what he would do if he wasn't able to partner with her.

 

* * *

 

His foot tapped erratically as he waited for Amy to get in. It was the morning after The Morning After, and it would be the first time they spoke since. Amy had been given the day before off, and while Jake had had the urge all day to call her, he refrained. He'd been so nervous, Jake woke up unusually early and came into the office before her. Amy being, well, Amy, that meant he arrived before anyone else as well.

The cop part of him had reviewed the events and its consequences logically. While some non-confrontational part of him wished Amy didn't remember what happened, having sex with someone so drunk they blacked out was definitely not consensual. He already felt immeasurably guilty for not treating Amy better while he had the chance and possibly tanking their professional relationship. If it turned out he did, he didn't even want to think the word, _take advantage_ of Amy, he might as well turn himself in and give up on life.

The clomp of her shoes preceded Amy's arrival and rocketed Jake's nerves. Swallowing through his suddenly dry mouth, he turned to look at her approach. Her expression immediately tightened with apprehension upon seeing him, and that answered the question of whether she remembered or not. Even as he was consumed with uncertainty, Jake couldn't help admiring how she looked. Her hair was loose and straight, and she wore a maroon turtleneck under the grey blazer. He had a selfish fleeting thought that she might be covering up a hickey, but he couldn't recall if he'd given her any.

"Hey… You…" Jake greeted her, the syllables feeling wrenched from his mouth like teeth. "How're… things…" Amy came to a stop beside his desk, flashing him a very uncomfortable smile.

"You don't have to," She brushed the hair out of her face, "You know… do that."

"Do… what? We're… talking… normally…"

Amy crossed to her desk and sat, booting up her computer. "I know you don't like talking about, like… I don't know, I have no idea what I'm saying." She huffed to herself, gathering her thoughts before looking him in the eye. "This sort of thing makes you uncomfortable and I get that. I want you to know it's no big deal." Jake blinked at her slowly for a moment.

"No big deal." He echoed, the words ringing false in his mind.

"Right." Amy said with a decisive nod. "We're adults. We did what adults do. It happens all the time, so there's no reason to act weird about it." She said it with such conviction.

In his continuing pattern of having realizations at the worst times, Jake hadn't known what he wanted her to say until she didn't. If Amy had stumbled through a confession that she cared about him or was attracted to him or even just wanted to have sex again, Jake could've easily said, "Me too!" Maybe he'd even have been bolstered enough to say something about dating or commitment or start a rousing rendition of "My Life Would Suck Without You" and let her read the subtext from the song. But Amy hadn't, and that was that.

"Yeah, no, you're right." Jake said, hunching over his desk, clicking randomly on his computer. "In fact, we should probably forget the whole thing."

Amy looked at him then, and Jake foolishly met her gaze. There was something sad about the way she watched him, but he couldn't tell what had made her sad, his reaction or the mess itself. He couldn't help holding the contact, and Jake could only hope his face was blank enough that she wouldn't see the weird longing that had suddenly sprung up inside him. As the moment dragged on, Amy grew less solemn, and more contemplative, like she was on the verge of figuring out some great mystery. Her eyes fell shut, and Jake leaned a little closer over their desks in anticipation, as her mouth opened as if to speak.

"Peralta. Santiago." Both detectives jumped at the greeting as Captain Holt entered the precinct.

"Captain, hello!" Amy stuttered out an overly enthusiastic greeting. "You look particularly sharp today, sir." Holt inclined his head but said nothing to the compliment.

"Hey, Cap'n." Jake added, squashing any minor disappointment. It had felt as if Amy was going to say something important, but the moment was obviously gone now as she busied herself with getting to work.

"I'm surprised," Captain Holt said with absolutely no visual indicators on his face, "Detective Santiago usually makes a good impression in the mornings, but I thought typically you were still asleep until 8:30, Peralta."

"I am, I'm actually sleeping right now." He got up to deposit the previous day's report to the filing cabinet, comically missing the intended drawer. "This is totally me sleepwalking, and sleep-talking, and sleep-filing." He said as he groped blindly for the cabinet without looking away from the Captain. Holt raised an unamused brow at his antics.

"Well, as there is no such thing as sleep-working, I suppose we won't have to pay you for overtime." Amy giggled quietly at that, making his eyes snap to her. When that caused her to quiet, Jake swiveled his incredulous gaze back to the Captain.

"Wait, what? No, no, Cap'n, come on!"

"Don't call me Cap'n."

 

* * *

 

They're off. Everyone in the precinct could see it. Jake and Amy weren't fitting together the same way. There was no gloating, or pulling pigtails, no kind words or gestures. He still goofed around with anyone else who'd listen, but that easy cajoling space he used to have with Amy was lost, all that was left an unbridgeable gap. Amy still smiled brightly at Rosa, and Boyle, and the Sarge, and especially Holt, but always a small closed mouth thing with him, like she didn't want to show him her teeth anymore. There was a silence in meetings as the squad waited for bickering that never came. Jake and Amy, they were now Peralta and Santiago, consummate professionals to each other, and the office had no idea what to do with that.

It came to a head after almost a week. Jake was taking the statement of a walk in at his desk, a phone snatch. She was a blonde twenty-four year old named Angela. He'd smiled, and looked at Amy, because he knew she had an aunt by that name. Amy's jaw had been hard, and Jake remembered, they were all business now, and what business did he have knowing her aunt's name anyway? Angela had been shy and nervous, kept talking about how without her cell she was completely out of contact with anyone, and Jake had helped her through the statement and recommended a nearby bodega with prepaid cells until she got things sorted. When Angela asked about the steps involved in the investigation, more curious than most people, Jake took her through it with some joking and bravado, and before long Angela was laughing. Glad to see her apprehension gone, Jake grinned widely.

Without warning Amy shot up from her desk and stormed away, sensible shoes clacking angrily. Jake watched her go, noting her stiff posture and the fast swing of her arms, completely baffled. He absentmindedly finished Angela's report while wondering what could've set Amy off and made her so tense.

As he sent Angela away with his office number, a shadow loomed over him, forcing Jake to look up.

"Oh hey, Sarge." He greeted the disgruntled looking Terry with a smile. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Meet me in the briefing room," The Sargent ordered, tone unyielding, "Right now."

"Oo-kay." Jake said as Terry walked away. He closed Angela's file and followed his superior into the briefing room.

"Close the door." Terry said with a nod. Jake complied, unease growing in his stomach. The Sargent had his burly arms crossed in front of his intimidatingly wide chest. "Peralta, do you have any idea why I found Santiago shredding perfectly good printer paper and grumbling about insensitive jerks and blonde bimbos?"

Jake tilted his head with a grimace and said, "I get the feeling that's a trick question." Terry's raised eyebrows confirmed that. Jake leaned back as he contemplated this; it gave new context to her reaction. "Was Santiago really… That's so weird. Sarge, I wasn't—"

"Oh no, I was watching you," Terry interrupted, "You were being nice, that's all. I'm more interested in why, all of a sudden, Santiago gets jealous over _you_." Jake felt like the temperature skyrocketed. His face was burning red. Jealousy implied she had _feelings_ too, and that…

"That's… she isn't… we aren't…" Words failing him, he let out a jittery laugh and flailed his arms. Terry looked unimpressed.

"Have you ever wondered why I never mandated a HR session for you and Santiago?" Terry asked, sounding like a school teacher trying to coach a student to the right answer.

"We have those?" Jake replied. The Sargent let out a disappointed sigh.

"It's because I always knew that your banter, of a sexual nature or not, came from a place of real affection." He frowned, seemingly at himself and the serious phrasing. "Terry's a romantic, he don't get in the way of love, you know what I'm saying?"

"Yup, got it!" Jake said, rearing back from the sudden masculine fronting. Terry settled back into place.

"Something's obviously happened between you two, and right now things aren't good. Let me guess," He raised his chin as he stared hazily into space, "You and Santiago have revealed your attraction to one another, but you're minimizing the depth of your feelings out of fear, and now the two of you are doing a delicate dance around each other, hesitant to take that final step." Jake winced. That was… way better than the truth.

"Sure." Jake nodded vigorously. "Let's go with that." He sat crosslegged on one of the desks, lowering his head into his hands. "Look, it's nice you want to help, Sarge, but I don't think it's worth your time, man. Amy and I… it's probably not going to work out." He heard a huff of exasperation from the other man and added defensively, "We're just trying to keep our work stuff on track right now. Anything, you know, _personal_ is a stretch."

"Right, and how's that work relationship going?" Jake had to groan at that; the guy was right, it was sort of in shambles at the moment. "Can I tell you something you need to hear, Peralta?" He looked up at his Sargent's earnest face, and remembered that Terry had once told him he thought of Jake like one of his daughters. Jake nodded and Terry shifted his stance as if readying for a fight. "You've got some major daddy issues, and it's messing with your head." Jake's face involuntarily scrunched up; he hated the term 'daddy issues', it made him feel like a teenage girl. "Don't give me that, you talk about him enough, you know it's true. Your parents' relationship didn't work out, and so you don't think yours will either."

"That's not—"

"Think about all the terrible dates you have. You know why they all failed? Because you never tried. You feel like if you put in as little effort as possible, then it can't be your fault if things go badly." That… That couldn't be right. He was in a lot of debt, that's all. "Everyone knows you have issues admitting how you feel, but you're getting better. It's okay to put yourself out there and be vulnerable, not everyone is gonna use it to hurt you, and you're a tough enough guy to make it if they do." It was a compliment, a strange one, but one that filled him with warmth all the same. "And you and Amy, that's worth being vulnerable for. Know how I know?" Jake shook his head, staring avidly at Terry. The Sargent crossed the room and lifted a finger to press into Jake's chest. "It's _because_ you're so scared right now."

"Huh." Jake said thoughtfully. That actually made some sense. But… "What about Amy?" He asked, shy like a little boy again. "How do you know she's, you know, into me?" Terry rolled his eyes and Jake felt scolded.

"I don't know how she feels, man, you've gotta ask her yourself." Jake nodded, but he couldn't help being disappointed. It would've been much easier hearing that Amy had been deeply in love with him for months. "Look, worst case scenario," Terry said, sounding optimistic, "Amy cares enough about you to let you down easy."

"Why would you say that?" Jake exclaimed. "I'm trying to ask her out and you're saying she'll _let me down easy_!" Terry grabbed his shoulder and shook it, probably harder than he'd intended. "Ow, ow, ow!"

"Worst case, I said worst case." Terry soothed him before scowling. "Now be a man and tell that lady how you feel." Jake nodded with a strange mixture of exhilaration and terror. He jumped up from the table and strode towards the door. "After work." Terry clarified, halting him. "You've still got a lot to do and PDA isn't appropriate in the workplace."

"Ah." Jake nodded, pursing his lips. Before opening the door, he took a moment to bottle and store that determination for later. He hoped it would work.

 

* * *

 

_Mr. Lover lover, Mr. Lover lover, girl, Mr. Lover lover…_  
 _She call me Mr. Boombastic,_  
 _Say me fantastic,_  
 _Touch me in me back,  
_ _She say I'm Mr. Ro..._

"There's gotta be something better than this on here." Click. 

 _It's going down, fade to Blackstreet,  
_ _The homies got RB, collab creations,  
_ _Bump like acne, no doubt,  
_ _I put it down, never slouch,  
_ _As long as my credit can vouch  
_ _A dog couldn't catch me straight up…_  

"No, this is all wrong." Click.

 _Have you ever met a girl that you tried to date,  
_ _But a year to make love, she wanted you to wait?  
_ _Let me tell ya a story of my situation,  
_ _I was talkin' to this girl from the U.S. nation…_  

"Close enough." Jake turned the volume all the way up and lifted the 20 year old boombox over his head. It was hard to aim a boombox at a single window of an apartment complex, but he did his best.

His giant smile stayed on his face even as several moments passed. He shifted the weight of the boombox as his arms began to hurt; he'd forgotten how heavy that thing was. Jake could hear some commotion inside the building, and he really hoped no one filed a noise violation, that would be awkward to explain to the Captain.

"Peralta?" Amy's distant voice yelled in surprise. Jake turned his head. Oh, he'd been aiming at the wrong window. He adjusted quickly and smiled even more.

"Amy Santiago!" He called out. "I'm here to win your heart and I'm not leaving until you agree to go out with me!"

Amy's mouth fell open. "Are… are you 'Say Anything'-ing me right now?" She tilted her head as she listened to the song. "With…"

_You! You got what I need!_  
 _But you say he's just a friend, and you say he's just a friend,  
_ _Oh baby, you…_

 "Yeah," Jake winced, "This is the only mix tape I have. I made it when I was a kid, I don't even know why I still have it." He brightened, and added, "Hey, good thing I do though, otherwise you'd miss out on this super romantic moment."

"Are you kidding me right now?" Amy said, shaking her head. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because…" Jake swallowed, overcoming the first spike of fear that talking about his emotions brought, "I like you and I fucked up and I want to fix it." He could see Amy be taken aback by that, her expression falling into something gentler than exasperation. Their gaze held, and Jake began to think maybe Terry was right, maybe they'd work out.

"What the hell are you doing, you punk!" An elderly woman cried out from her window. "Shut that ethnic racket up!"

"What do you mean, 'ethnic racket'!" Jake replied with annoyance. "It's called rap, lady, that's racist!"

"I'm sorry!" Amy shouted down at her neighbor, cringing in embarrassment. "My friend is an idiot!"

"Hey now," He said to Amy, "That's not fair, I—"

_Oh. My. God. Becky, look at her butt…_

"Wow, I am so sorry." Jake scrambled to skip the track. He hadn't even noticed the last song ending. He could see Amy shut the window and walk away. "No, no, no, come on…" Click.

_Girl you workin' with some ass yeah, you bad yeah…_

"This is ridiculous." Click.

_I was like, good gracious ass is bodacious…_

"Come on, that's not even from the Nineties! How is that possible?" Click.

_Fuck da police, comin' straight from da underground…_

"Jake, just turn it off!" He jumped, whirling around to see Amy striding towards him on the street. She must've come down from her apartment. Jake hurriedly shut the boombox off and putting it on the ground.

"Hey, Amy." He said with a small wave. Amy's teeth were grit tight as she crossed her arms.

 She said in a low hiss, "If you're doing this to make fun of me, I will murder you and dispose of the pieces."

Jake shook his head. "Nope, I am for real." That was another rap reference. Shit. He had to get serious. Jake cleared his throat and opened his arms, palms up in supplication. "Amy, I've got a couple things to say." She frowned, looking like she was about to interrupt. He began talking, going over what he rehearsed. "Our partnership is the best part of my life right now, even beating out the five pound gummy bear I have sitting at home." Her nose wrinkled at that. "I'd never want to do anything to jeopardize our working relationship, definitely not your career, I know how important being Captain someday means to you."

"Jake…" Amy murmured, her crossed arms falling. She didn't seem to know what to say. He could see her warming up to him, so he plowed through the next bit in the hope that reaction would last.

"But, all of that out of the way, I'm super into you and we may have kissed and we may have had sex, but I want to have all that and make fun of cop movies and eat weird takeout with you too." Breathing heavy, almost lightheaded with nerves, with a prickly heat under his skin, Jake waited for some sign she understood. Amy was stock still, staring at him with parted lips. After a moment, she looked more… confused than anything, and she shook her head and looked away from him. The bottom fell out of Jake's stomach. "This could be coming completely out of left field," He started babbling, filling the stifling silence, "I mean, I don't know, Terry said something about you being jealous at the station…" Amy scowled and narrowed her eyes at him, and he knew he lost more ground.

“Well excuse me," She retorted, putting her hands on her hips, "But I didn’t exactly like being just another girl you could mess with and forget about.”

“You’re not!" He blurted out, holding up his hands to forestall her. "Look, I’m sorry I left that morning, but I wasn’t sure how you’d react. I figured it would be easier to freak out if I gave you some space."

“You’re such an idiot.” Amy said with a roll of her eyes. “Do you even remember that night?” That was a trick question, it had to be. Jake deliberated for a second on his answer. He had to win her over again, and fast.

“Okay, in my defense, I was pretty drunk, and I know I can do better. Do you need references from sex partners, cause I can get some.”

“Jake, the sex was great.” She blurted out incredulously. That derailed his thoughts completely. Jake stared as she grew more embarrassed. “It was, kinda, explosive, you know? When I kissed you, it was like lighting a fuse, and things spiraled from—”

“You kissed me?” Jake repeated. That made Amy shift uneasily.

“Yeah." She admitted, her eyes dropping shyly. Jake couldn't quite process it, but as the fact set in, it threw everything into sharp relief. If Amy came onto him that night, he could see how she might get the wrong idea about him avoiding her. "You were dropping me off at my apartment and telling me goodnight," Amy continued, and he payed close attention, "And then you said something like you’d love to fall asleep with your hands on my boobs every night because you thought they’d be really soft and warm.” That forced a slightly hysterical laugh from Jake, and Amy punched his arm. “Hey, I was drunk too, at the time it sounded really sweet.”

“I can’t believe that worked.” Jake said mostly to himself. “Over a year of pulling your pigtails and I get you with ’your boobs are soft’. Unbelievable.” He expected Amy to call him a butthead or hit him again.

“A year of pulling my pigtails?” She said instead, her voice soft and sounding surprisingly fond. “That was you trying to… I don't know, woo me?” Jake grimaced through a spike of anxiety, but he plowed through it.

“Yeah, kinda. I maybe didn’t realize it until a couple weeks ago. And then I had no idea what to do with all these weird, ugh, feelings, until we kissed and you almost got shot and then we had sex and…" Jake shook his head as one thing became clear. "Wow, we are really not good at this, are we?” Amy grinned and it was brilliantly bright and Jake could feel himself matching it. “Santiago, will you have a mature adult romantic relationship with me?” He declared finally.

“Why Peralta I thought you’d never ask.” She teased in reply. Jake didn't resist the impulse when it came, and he caught her chin and kissed her. It was everything their previous kisses had not been: it was not hungry, or clumsy, or forceful, or meant to lead anywhere. It was a sweet curl of smiles around another. They kissed like they knew they would kiss again, and so there was no point in rushing. They lingered after their lips parted, breathing in the other’s air, letting their foreheads rest gently together as their eyes opened. They wore identical smiles, reflecting the warmth and care they had for each other.

“I can’t promise I’ll be any good at this.” Jake warned her. “Maturity is something I’m still working on.”

“I don’t expect you to do well, Peralta.” She said, sounding serious. Jake reached up and flicked her ear. “Ow,” Amy said, but she didn’t pull away from their embrace, “Wow, what was I thinking, of course you're mature.”

“Thanks, fartbreath.” Her face scrunched up at the insult and Jake darted closer for a quick peck on her lips. That made her laugh, and Jake was reminded again of how much he liked her. Or maybe there was another word for it, but he’d had enough self-discovery for a while. Right there, right then, Jake wanted to savor the beginning of being with Amy. There would be plenty of time for the rest of it all later.

“Wanna come upstairs and order in dinner?” Amy asked, taking his hand and tangling their fingers into Gordian knots. Jake, feeling a swell of pure happiness, simply nodded and let himself be pulled along.

They got Asian fusion Tex Mex from this place right around the corner. It was a little weird, and definitely unexpected, but it somehow came together perfectly.


End file.
